


Guns N' Roses

by TellThemNaegi



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, F/M, Fluff, Lies, Platonic Romance, Secret Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-10 16:21:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18663964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TellThemNaegi/pseuds/TellThemNaegi
Summary: Makoto Naegi is a top-class secret agent, able to talk his way in-and-out of almost any situation. Mukuro Ikusaba is a veteran mercenary with a spotless record on the battlefield. None of their talents or achievements prepared them for their greatest challenge yet.Junko/Komaru: Isn't it about time you got married?





	Guns N' Roses

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shadow_Kitsune24](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Shadow_Kitsune24).



_"How are we going to settle this, onee?”_ A preppy, irritated voice rang out.

“I don't know, Junko.” Mukuro mumbles, her cell phone seated between her ear and her neck to keep it from falling. Her hands were preoccupied, tending to the hosts of the party. “Can we talk another time? I'm...a little....busy!”

_“That’s what you said 5 years ago at my wedding!”_

“You _did_ get married awfully fast…” The older twin throws the man she’d been choking to the side, his back colliding against the wall.

_“Muuust've heard wrong. Could ya repeat that, sis?”_

“I-I didn’t say anything!” Strands of black hair flew as Mukuro side-steps a blade from behind. She lodges her combat boots straight into her assailant’s solar-plexus, right as he turned around. “Gwaah!”

_“...What was that?”_

“It’s just,” The ravenette grabs the knife hidden under her skirt and throws the pointed tip at a gunman’s forehead. “nothing.”

_“Either someone likes it rough or… eeew, you’re doing **that** over the phone?! Gross, gross, gross!”_

“I-It’s not what you’re thinking!”

_“Have the goddamn decency to hold off killing a bitch while talking to your little sister!”_

Huh, it was exactly what she was thinking.

 _“Hopeless, hopeless, hopeless. You’re embarrassing me, sis. Gorilla-shit like this, is why you still haven’t landed a man!”_ Mukuro hears a sigh over the phone. _“This might be my fault. I was too pretty, too smart, too beautiful, too talented, too gorgeous!”_

“Aren’t three of those the same thing?” Mukuro said, getting a bodyguard into an arm-lock.

 _“Too socially adept to interrupt when other, far more important people were talking!”_ Mukuro quieted. _“Aaaah, I stole all the good genes. I have to take responsibility!”_

Junko talking about taking responsibility sounded more painful than having every bone in the body broken...Incidentally,

*snap*

“AAAH!” Like a twig.

_“In one year, I’m hosting a pageant to show off clothing designs from all over the world. You have until then to bag a hubby. I don’t care how even if you have to poke a hole through rubber and trap him.”_

“And…if I don’t?” Sweat drips down Mukuro’s forehead. Junko’s ultimatums were never good news.

_**“I’ll grab a gun and blow my brains out on stage.”** _

…

“Hahaha…that’s funny, Junko.”

Silence.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?”

_“I’ve never told a joke in my life, girl! If I don’t do this, you’ll keep putting it off. Before you know it, BAM, you’re 40 and still single.”_

“Y-You can’t. What about Yasuke and the kids?”

_“Yadda-yadda Despair. Everyone knows the whole spiel by now."_

"Who are you talking to-"

_"Whelp, I’ll leave you to your ‘JOOOOOOB’. Remember, you’ve got one year to get a guy...or girl. Don't care as long as it's human.”_

The line cut.

The raven-haired party crasher who’d just eliminated a slew of bodyguards and their employer, trembled with fear. 3 minutes passed before she snapped out of her stupor.

“I have to act, fast.” The hitman ran out of the once extravagant, now blood-stained, banquet hall.

Upon her leave, one man with a scar running down his face stirred. Wounded, but very much alive. Gustav Mikhailov swore in plain English. “You’ll pay for this, Ikusaba Mukuro.”

* * *

 

Makoto looks down as his phone rings for the 3rd time that night. The caller ID read ‘Naegi Komaru’.

“I don’t mind if you answer.” The tone of the woman sitting across him is whimsical and testing.

He turns off his cell, relaxes into his seat and shows a carefree smile. “I'd never let myself get distracted at dinner with...royalty, was it?” His voice holds a playful bite that rivals his esteemed date. “Insensitivity like that could put me on death row.”

Celestia Ludenberg let out a small laugh. “I’d be lying if I hadn’t considered executing other potential suitors.”

“Hopefully, I’m ahead of the pack.”

The red-eyed woman slowly turns to the top floor’s glass window. “One of the finest restaurants in Paris and a view of the city lights...You barely pass at B rank for overcompensation.”

“A passing grade is fine, for a _first_ date.” He was ever the optimist.

“You presume there’ll be a next time?”

“What can I say? My friends call me lucky all the time.”

Celestia locks her fingers together, hiding behind a sweet mask. “You may have used up all your luck getting me here tonight. I’m hard to catch, even harder to find. However,” There’s always a ‘but’. “There is a highly extravagant event coming up soon. The host is Enoshima Junko. Ever heard the name?”

The brunet leans forward.  “Can’t say I have.”

“She’s the finest fashion entrepreneur in the world. Her designs catch my eye, even at their outrageous prices. If you were to say, procure a dress worth my while…I may consider reevaluating you.”

“I like a challenge.” He stands from his seat and offers Celestia a hand. “Shall we go?”

Their business here is finished. He only needs the night to end inconspicuously. The two enter the elevator down, fully aware of the gazes following their backs.

A limo awaits Celestia as they exit _L’Oiseau Blanc._

“It was my pleasure.” Makoto lands a farewell kiss on the back of Celestia’s hand. He peels off the metal ornament on her index finger. Celestia doesn’t comment when he places it in his pocket.

“But before you leave. Take this.” Makoto reaches into his suit and pulls out a rose. “For you.”

Celestia brings the flower close to her lips, smelling the fragrance. A mysterious smile forms on her face. He reads the core of her amusement like an open-book.

“I’m a fan of the classics.”

..

Makoto watches the back of Celestia’s limousine vanish into the night. He doesn’t call a taxi; the hotel isn’t too far for a walk. He pulled up the hoodie on his jacket for comfort.

“Oh right.” His eyebrow twitches when he sees 7 missed calls. “I’ll never hear the end of it if I wait till tomorrow to call back.”

The phone barely rings before _“Pick up your phone, ass!”_ blares. Makoto winches, pulling his ear away from the screech. He looks around the street, catching only a few onlookers.

Makoto narrows his eyes. “I was busy.”

_“I went by your apartment. When are you coming home?”_

“Uh…probably not for a few days…” 

 _“…Where are you?_ ” Komaru says after a period of silence.

“Paris.” He’s ready to block his ears this time.

_“Where’d you get the money for a vacation and why wasn’t I invited?!”_

The pitch on that girl. Makoto surveys his surroundings again. He sees the same passerbys observing him.

He faces forward. “It’s a business trip. I’ll bring you back a cool souvenir. By the way, what did you want to talk about?”

_“Big bro. How old are you?”_

“Um…28, last I checked.”

Komaru’s response is quick. Too quick. _“Don’t you think it’s about time you settle down?”_

A shiver crawls down Makoto’s spine. “Has mom been talking about wanting grand-kids again?”

_“She won’t stop harassing me, bro. Hurry and get married already!”_

The things I put up with. “It’s not like I’m hitting an expiry date or something. Besides, aren’t girls more worried about that stuff? Why don’t _you_ give mom what she wants?” He turns the corner, into a narrow street. He sees a homeless man sitting on the pavement, wrapped in covers.

_“You’re the older sibling! Be responsible!”_

Maybe one of these days, he’ll finally see the perks of being the oldest child. Because it seems everyone only remembers when they want him to do something. “Listen, I’ll call back later.”

_“Don’t hang u- “_

* * *

“ _Suivez-le._ ” Said a middle-aged man with slicked-back blonde hair and a cigar. Behind him were three bulky men in trench coats.

“Why are we tailing him, Pierre?” One asks.

“Chances are he’s a spy targeting the boss. If he received anything from that woman relating to **Her** …well, you know.” Pierre Brisbois puffs a smoke. _“_ _L’attraper_ _avant qu’il s'échappe.”_

They run into the narrow street, spotting the man with the hood, walking slowly. By the time he notices the gaining footsteps, they tackle him to the ground. “W-What are you doing?”

“Good work.” Pierre steps forward, kicking their captive and flipping him over to his front.

"Looks like he's about to piss himself."

“Hm?” The blonde frowns as he got a good look at the man’s face. The cigar falls from his lips. “You have the wrong guy, you idiots!”

“He’s wearing the same jacket.” The subordinate said, then turns to the frightened man. “Who are you? Where did you get those clothes?”

“H-He gave them to me. Paid me to wear this and walk away. I-I didn’t have any reason to refuse. H-He even gave me this.” He fidgets while holding up a red rose, dirtied from the fall. The white tag attached to the flower.

"Give me that." Pierre snatches the flower and reads the label.

_"Tag...you're it." - 11037_

"Is that a codename, boss?"

“He's fucking with us!" Pierre’s face contorts with rage. "Impossible. The bum we passed by-. Turn around, we can still catch him!” Who knows what Enoshima Junko would do to them if they failed? "Better say your prayers while you can, 11037."

The goons give chase, back the way they came.

'The homeless man' rises to his feet, dusting his pants and runs in the opposite direction. Once in a clearing, Naegi Makoto rips the mask off his face and hails a taxi.

He’d find a new hotel, one far away from here.

The spiky haired man sighs in the backseat of the car. He takes out the ‘gift’ from Celestia. A metal accessory, from which a flash drive slips out. His features grow tired with wear. Not from his chasers or anything relating to his mission, but more mundane and simultaneously horrific trials awaiting him back home. “I’m in trouble.”

* * *

 Mukuro plops on the hotel bed, arms spread wide as she stares at the ceiling with hopelessness in her eyes. Junko had unofficially cut off all contact with her. Unofficially because Junko had taken every possible step but verbally communicating their separation. Mukuro visited her sister’s office but was refused entrance. Mukuro tried to check her family…and received a restraining order from Junko’s husband, via letter. One that wouldn’t expire for a year, coincidentally the day after the pageant.

It wasn’t surprising that Junko could do this. It was even less surprising that she would. Her sister had as much power as she lacked common sense.

“What am I going to do?” Ikusaba Mukuro. Age 29. Single. No dating experiences. No residence either. She had money, hard-earned and dirty all the same. That didn’t matter to the unsuspecting receivers.

She stands with agility betraying her slender frame. “Maybe I could _buy_ a husband.” Junko _did_ say she could use whatever she could.

“I’ll look for an internet café tomorrow.” The web had everything. There had to be dating sites for this kind of thing.

* * *

Makoto’s (disposable) cell rings atop the railings on his apartment’s veranda. The bulb on the roof sheds light in the night time. In the meanwhile, Makoto sheers a bouquet of flowers he’d left growing in his absence.

_“What do you want?”_

“Byakuya, you finally picked up!” It only took about 5 attempts.

Makoto swipes the phone off the rails.

_“You’re calling me on my private line, at 2 am. If you’re not dying, you will be, come morning.”_

“Don’t be angry. I wanted to hear your voice.” He can visualize the revulsion on his friend’s face at the suggestion.

“ _I received your report only 2 days ago….”_ Byakuya pauses _“This better not mean there were complications with the Novoselic spy that you couldn’t say through the official channels.”_

“Nonono. Celestia did good work.” Doubtful her real name, so he had no problem saying it aloud. He slips the flowers into a vase. His fingers enclose on the cord next to the sliding door and pulls down. The lights turn off and he steps inside. “The data on Enoshima Junko is real, as far as I know. This is um…a bit of a private matter. Is Kyoko there? I’d have called her directly, but you know how she is.” His childhood friend didn’t “do” social media. It’s hard to get in touch.

_“What would you have to say to her that you couldn’t to me?”_

“I didn’t think you’d care. If you’re up listening and more importantly feel like _helping_ me with my love life, I’d be glad to rely on you-…Byakuya? You still there?”

A moment of silence later.

 _“Do you have any idea what time it is?”_ The speaker switches.

“Hi, Kyoko! Got a minute?”

_“You have 5.”_

Different folks, same strokes. His friends… “Okay, just earlier this afternoon, I went to see my parents and um…they’re getting serious about marrying me off. They’re even talking about marriage interviews.”

_“And?”_

Makoto clears his throat. “Isn’t that a problem? Getting overly attached never ends well. I’m a spy. I might even put them in danger.”

He hears a groan from the other side. _“This isn’t a Bond film, Makoto. Agents start families all the time and nothing that your overactive imagination is conceiving, happens. Not commonly anyway.”_

“I don’t have an-”

Kyoko doesn’t even let him finish _“You smiled like a schoolboy for almost a week when you first got a codename.”_

“Point taken.”

_“If you don’t want your family butting into your own private business, take the initiative.”_

A flash of inspiration. “I get it. I should find a (fake) partner on my own terms.” That way, he’d have a perfect cover. "You're a genius!"

_“I have a feeling you’ve come to a grave misunderstanding, but we’re at 4 minutes and 55 seconds.”_

She’s gone before he even gets to say, “Good night, Kyoko.”

He says it anyway.

* * *

 Mukuro stalks the streets, biting her nails. She spent most of the night thinking or more like correcting her half-baked plans. This was Junko she was talking about. Chaotic enough that she’s make you find a needle in a haystack but forget to mention this specific haystack was on the other side of the planet.

Junko would see through a fake relationship in an instant, call Mukuro a failure…and would live up to her threat. There’s also the matter of afterwards. After going through the trouble, Junko-chan wouldn’t let it end after a simple meeting at the pageant. She would keep tabs, for who knows how long. She might even force a marriage between them.

She hadn’t even thought about how a relationship would interfere with her job!

“Uwaaah.” Mukuro’s eyes swirl with dizziness as she turned to the intersection.

* * *

 Makoto blends into the densely populated streets. His smile, a permanent fixture. Only his tense brow reveals his discomfort. He didn’t like crowded spaces. They were a double-edged sword. Just as he submerses himself in crowds, so can others. Who knows, he could miss a potential threat standing right before his eyes. At least, these were Makoto’s ordinary worries. Now he was dealing with a different beast entirely.

“Should I ask, Aoi?” He’d eyed the gorgeous clerk at the local bakery one too many times. Aoi was airheaded enough that he could feasibly convince her, but would she be able to put up the act in front of his family?

“What about Chihiro.” If Makoto was feeling spiteful, bringing another man home would be one hell of a shock to Mom and dad. But he’d never sleep at night using Chihiro that way.

“There’s…Sayaka.” As a spy herself and long-time friend, the duplicitous idol would understand his position. The demerits were that even a fake relationship would have him stand out with her “official” career. 

Makoto sighs. He isn’t looking for any deep relationships. It’d only get in the way.

*Honk*

His ears nearly bleed from the obnoxious horns.

* * *

  _*arf*_

 A small dog limps in the middle of the road. Mukuro was sensitive to animals. Otherwise, the noise made by the speeding truck would have drowned out the dog’s bark.

Adrenaline surges through Mukuro’s veins. She dashes towards the canine and crosses the intersection. A breeze hits her back as the truck passes by.

A moment passes and Mukuro half-expects the dog to bark and jump out of her arms. It does neither. Instead, it whimpers in her cradle.

“Are you alright?”

 _’_ Mukuro looks to the side. 

* * *

One second Makoto predicted a crash course, and the next…a blur. The woman on the other end of the street ran (jumped?) and saved the dog.

_‘How could she move that fast?’_

“Are you alright?” His eyes scan the black-haired woman. She hid a fit figure beneath her brown jacket. She wore a purple pencil-skirt, stockings and combat boots. “You…saved it.”

 The small dog whines in her grip.

“It still got injured.” She remarks with a hint of sadness.

“Let me take a look.” He offers. She has a steady, doubting expression that Makoto knows melts away after he puts on his winning smile.

The canine ends up in his arms without a fuss. His fingers trace its body, stopping at the leg. “I found the injury. It's on the leg.”

“You can tell?”

“Taking care of animals is my hobby.” Among other things. “Wouldn’t mind if I looked after it, would you?”

“I’d appreciate it if you did. I don’t know this area very well.”

“Are you a visitor?” He asks.

The woman nods.

Makoto pauses before speaking. “If you’re free. Care to come with me?” She did risk her life to save it. “I’m Naegi Makoto, by the way.”

“Ikusaba Mukuro.”

Mukuro huh... “It was amazing, the way you saved this dog.”

Her cheeks flush pink.

“Thank you.”

* * *

_‘Nobody has ever smiled at me like that before’_

That may have been the reason Mukuro did something as uncharacteristic – not to mention dangerous – as following a stranger into his home. Despite his formal attire, Makoto had little presence. By that, Mukuro meant he had no outstanding characteristics. Brown, spiky hair. He was skinny, unimposing and slightly shorter than her. Another reason was her confidence. Even if Makoto was a threat, she could easily handle him.

That possibility was becoming less likely seeing him playing with the dog they’d saved on the sofa.

_‘He’s just a civilian. ‘_

Her thoughts flicker when the dog licks Makoto’s cheek, evoking a soft giggle from him.

_‘A cute civilian.’_

Hazel eyes find hers and he snaps to attention. “Sorry, I got carried away with the check-up.” He said, sheepishly.

“You mean you _weren’t_ playing around?” Coming from anyone else, that might’ve sounded sarcastic, but she really had no idea.

Makoto rests the dog on his lap and points to its left leg. He’d wrapped bandages around the dog’s ankles. “I think the reason he’s so calm right now is because of the injury. Hurts too much to walk.”

Mukuro bites her lip. “I might have been too rough with it.” It wouldn’t be the first time she’d broken something that way.

Makoto pats the dog’s head. “Maybe. Or it could have been injured before that. Who can say? This little critter could have been running from other animals and sprained its ankle. It happens more times than you might think.”

Mukuro hazards a guess. “Could you be…a veterinarian?”

“Hmm. Nothing that professional. Taking care of animals is one of my 420 talents!”

The ravenette stares at Makoto with wonder. “That’s incredible.”

He snorts “I’m ~~slightly~~ exaggerating. I’m just multi-faceted. Better to be prepared for an abundance of scenarios like today, don’t you think?”

Mukuro nods in agreement. “You’re very capable, Makoto.” Unlike herself, whose only skill was murder.

“So are you, Ms. Hero. You saved a life today.”

Mukuro denies the thought. “That’s a bit much. I have a soft spot for animals, that’s all.”

“You make it sound like you wouldn’t have done the same for a _person_.” Makoto laughs.

“I…probably wouldn’t have.”

He stops, gazing at her with newfound intrigue. “Why?”

“Survival of the fittest. I think it’s only natural the weak lose out.” She’d seen it all the time in war. Civilians who couldn’t defend themselves were either killed or used as hostages. “But it’s a different story when you put nature out of the wild. It’d be different if that dog was fighting other dogs, but it’s not fair to put it up against humans.” Or their creations in this case.

“Fairness? I can see that.” Makoto places a finger to his chin.

“I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong idea…” Mukuro freezes. Wait…did she just screw up? She was having a conversation right now. With a nice guy who **thought** she was a good person.

Her anxiety dispels with his following statement. “It’s better than what I had in mind. I was thinking you were one of those types who liked animals more than people.” His positivity is infectious. “I don’t feel like making any more embarrassing misconceptions. Tell me about yourself, Mukuro. This your first time in this country?”

“No. I was born here.” Mukuro nervously played with her fingers, thinking about what to say. “I don’t have too many good memories, being homeless and all.” Makoto expressed sympathy. “It wasn’t all that bad. I fended for myself, attended school like everyone else. Up until now, I worked as a contractor in the Middle East.”

“A contractor?”

“I was…sent to manage employees at an oil firm. It hasn’t been an exciting life, for the most part.”

**That was a lie.**

Her homeless background was the only piece of truth in Mukuro’s recollection. At the ripe age of 10, Mukuro joined a rogue mercenary gang in the Middle-East. There, she gained repute on the battlefield as an invincible soldier and developed her talents. Talents that she would later use for her sister to rise to power. Everything was for Junko; her precious, perfect little sister. Mukuro acted as Junko’s shadow and protector. If there was someone in her sister’s way, she removed them. If any dared harm Junko, she saw to it that they never would again.

Mukuro’s only regret is that, at some point, her usefulness to her twin ended. Junko established powerful connections across the globe and had everything a woman could ask for. Unneeded, Mukuro was left to follow the only path she knew – she became a mercenary, accepting whatever job she could. She had no struggles financially, but she could never lead a solitary life. You made enemies in this business.

“Ah.” Makoto nods satisfied with her fabrications.

* * *

“What about you? I’m sure you’ve got your own stories.” Mukuro bashfully passes the baton.

“I do, but they’d bore you to tears. I’m an older sibling with a little sister. Both my parents are alive and working. I made friends, good friends. I helped people who needed me and avoided danger wherever I could. I graduated a good college and now I’m employed in…civil service. I have even fewer wild adventures than you.”

“I think that’s fine. A normal life is precious too.” Mukuro said.

Makoto cheerfully agrees. “Yeah, I’m satisfied with it.”

**That was a lie.**

Makoto’s lifestyle was chaotic, fluctuating and centered on one core characteristic: Luck.

As a child, he _just happened_ to live next to and befriend **Kirigiri Kyoko,** a stoic girl with a rich family history. While other boys played tag in the neighborhood, Makoto tagged along with professional detectives.

In middle school, the two just _happened_ to be in the same class as **Maizono Sayaka;** entertainer of national fame, as well as a teacher of subterfuge. Proximity with Kyoko taught Makoto not to be swayed by emotion. Knowing Sayaka taught him how to use them.

The three gained entrance into Hope’s Peak Academy. On the surface, it was a prestigious academy. Beneath, it was a breeding ground for future agents of the country and abroad.  Hope’s Peak Academy opened a wealth of opportunities for them. And none knew wealth like **Togami Byakuya**. The heir to the Togami corporation was a man with massive connections and clout. He also just happens to be Makoto’s best friend/boss. The blonde will only ever admit to the latter. Now Makoto, Sayaka and Kyoko act as international agents for the Togami group and its affiliates.

In short, Makoto’s life had been nothing short of abnormal. If only because he happened to surround himself with exceptional people. Ribbons of opportunity fell into his lap and he grabbed them with all his might. The summation of his efforts was becoming one of the corporation’s best spies and a man with more money than he knew what to do with.

But now – Makoto pinches his forehead.

But now – Mukuro sighs.

**_‘My lifestyle is in danger if I don’t find a partner.’_ **

The two meet each other’s eyes.

“It’s late.” Makoto sees that it was indeed nighttime, judging from the darkness outside the window.

“Yeah.” Mukuro stared down, making no sign of moving.

“Do you have a place to stay?”

“No. I was going to check in to a hotel.”

Makoto’s motto was to never miss an opportunity and they always came to him. Well, this is why he brought her to his home in the first place. “Then, feel free to stay here, if you’d like.”

* * *

The soldier’s eyes widened. Her chance had come. “I’d be grateful but,” First she had to test the waters. “I wouldn’t want to impose on anyone.”

“There’s no imposition on me.”

“Then…could I take that to mean you’re single?”

 “Yeah. Sad, but true. Actually, I’m at that age where my family’s been bugging me to take the plunge already.”

Mukuro laughs into her glove, both out of sympathy and familiarity. “Mine’s the same. I’m in a whole lot of trouble if I’m not seen dating in a year. Even though I don’t have much interest yet.”

 “Looks like we’re quite a pair.”

“Yes.”

“Well then. Why don’t we happy, harassed single folk help each other out.” Makoto proposes.

Mukuro listens attentively.

“Let’s pretend to be lovers and convince our families. The condition should last a little over a year. Maybe closer to two, so we can get them off our backs for a little while longer. If the arrangement gets uncomfortable, we’ll break it off. No hard feelings.” The spy offered.

“That’s perfect! Thank you so much, Makoto!”

He holds back a triumphant grin. “I’ve got wine in the fridge to celebrate. Be right back.” He stands from the sofa.

Mukuro watches Makoto’s back retreating into the kitchen, thanking her good luck.

Makoto opens the fridge to find a half empty wine bottle. He opened the cupboard overhead to take two clear glasses. He smiles to himself, praising his luck.

 “He seems desperate too.”

“I guess she’s as desperate as I am.”

Makoto returns to the living room with two full glasses of red wine. “Let’s have a toast to our new partnership.” He pawns one off to his guest.

The mercenary and the spy bump glasses and drink.

_‘For Junko.’_

_‘For my career.’_

* * *

Mukuro flaps the wet, white sheets up in the air. Over her month’s stay in Makoto’s home, she’d been assigned house cleaning duties. Mukuro hadn’t complained. She was living here for free; it was the least she could do to brush up on the domestic qualities that she’d neglected.  Besides, this made good practice for getting into the role of a housewife.

The sheets settled down and rested on the clothesline.

Mukuro’s eyes wander around the veranda. The condominium wasn’t cheap, the interior reflects that, but Mukuro understood that the veranda was Makoto’s favorite place to be. It was hers too.

There’s a flower bed, with a different variety of shapes, colors and sizes fluttering back and forth in the wind. It was a scene out of a painting. When Mukuro first chanced on the flowers, Makoto took the time to identify each one with a boyish degree of enthusiasm.

“ARF!”

“Waah!”

Mukuro’s head whips back. Chuck barking was one thing, but she didn’t recognize the other scream. The hitman runs inside, zipping from corner to corner until the entranceway comes into view. The adopted dog growls at the intruder – a woman with mid-length black hair, and a familiar antennae-like strand sticking out.

“W-Why is there a dog here?” She shifts between fear and the urge to pet. Before making her decision, a shadow slips behind her and the sharp end of a kitchen knife is inches from her neck.

“Don’t move.” Mukuro commands.

The girl shakes like a leaf in a storm.

Good enough.

“How did you find this place…and how did you break in?” Mukuro asks.

“You’re the one who broke in. Get out get out get out or I’ll call the police!”

The assassin’s face was ice, but the girl’s declaration makes her lower the knife slightly.

What burglar threatens to call the police?

Second, she realized her usual tactics would not work. Murdering someone here would only draw negative attention from the authorities, and to Makoto. She couldn’t betray his kindness that way.

“Don’t ignore me!”

“You sure are pushy. Do you even get the position you’re in?” Mukuro thought to scare her away, but she didn’t act like someone at knifepoint.

Chuck stops growling. He draws closer to the stranger and sniffs her feet

“Arf!” The dog’s tongue falls out and wags its tail. Tiny paws pelt the girl’s leg, like it’s trying to climb up her body. That was Chuck’s signal to be carried.

Mukuro shakes her head. Okay, new tactic. “Are you Makoto’s friend?”

“What’s your connection to my big brother?”

Aaaaaand mystery solved.

Mukuro withdraws and unhands the smaller Naegi sibling. With a nervous smile, she bows. “I’m sorry about the confusion. I’m Ikusaba Mukuro, Makoto’s girlfriend.”

“Makoto’s…girlfriend?” She squinted. “But…you pointed a knife at me?”

“I-It’s a bad habit. You somehow got into the house and I thought you were a thief.”

“Makoto’s…girlfriend?”

Mukuro has the strangest feeling the means and the ends had gotten mixed up. She hits speed dial on her phone.

_“Hello, Makoto here.”_

“It’s Mukuro and…um, your sister’s here to see you.”

 _“Oh.”_ There was a silence on the line. _“Scale of 1- 10, how bad was it?”_

“7”

_“Pass the phone, please.”_

Mukuro obliges.

“Big bro. This woman says she’s your girlfriend….eh, it’s true? Why didn’t you say anything?! I was almost killed! Huh? Oh, I used the spare keys. I wanted to surprise you when you came home…my karma? S-Shut up!” Komaru drops the call, a petulant pout on her face the whole while. She turns her attention to Mukuro, sizing up the newcomer. “Thanks. I’m Naegi Komaru.” She formally introduces herself.

This is among the worst ways for them to have met. Mukuro’s instincts responded in the ways she’d trained them to. No use crying of spilled milk.

Especially as they’d planned for something like this.

The Bluetooth buzzes in her ear. _“Mukuro. This is Makoto. If you hear me, say ‘Care to have lunch with me?’”_

“Care to have lunch with me?”

“Eh? Now?” Komaru asks.

“Yes. I’d love to get to know you.” Mukuro smiles. The first week, Makoto had prepared her for all sorts of altercations with his family and instructed her on what to say. She’s happy to know he was taking their arrangement as seriously as she was.

_“If you don’t make a good first impression it’ll take a while before she warms up to you. I’ll be there in about 2 hours. Sorry, but my sister’s kind of a bonehead so prepare yourself.”_

How difficult could she be?

* * *

“How many times have you had sex?” The interrogation begins at the finish line.

“…” 

_“Don’t let it bother you, she’s trying to test the intimacy of our relationship. **Now only repeat what I say.** ”_

Mukuro doesn’t comment on how unphased Makoto is. They are siblings, he must be used to this. Like how Junko’s quirks weren’t shocking to her but might surprise others.

…

“Are we counting this week?” Mukuro let the implication hang in the air.

Komaru’s cheeks flush red. As if Chuck saw it as a problem, he perks up from Komaru’s lap and starts licking the blush. “Okay, maybe that was too forward. Why don’t we start with how you two met?”

…

“Makoto and I saved Chuck on the streets. It was a holiday, the vets weren’t open, so we had to treat him here. I got hooked when I saw what a charming, handsome specimen of a man your brother was.” She recited Makoto’s instructions to the letter.

Komaru covers her mouth, as if she’s going to vomit. “I wouldn’t go neeeaaaaarly that far. But what makes you think you’re a good fit for Makoto?”

Was she my mother-in-law?

…

“I don’t have too many talents, sadly. I can cook. I can clean. I’m a black-belt. A former manager of multi-national corporation…”

“…You’re loaded?!” Komaru slams her hand on the table.

…

“I don’t mean to brag, but it might be better to show you.”

Komaru was puzzled when Mukuro disappeared into the hallway. The ravenette returns, bringing with her a black suit case. She planted it on the living room table.

Komaru flicks open the locks and pulls the cover up. Her jaw drops at the stacks of bills that fill the suitcase to the brim.

“If you’d like, take it.”

 “Wut?”

“It’s only change I have on hand. There wasn’t any need to put it in the bank so please, go right ahead and think of it as a gift.” That was Makoto’s money, but Mukuro easily had the same amount to withdraw at any point.

“…can I ask one more question?”

“Sure.”

“Why are you wasting yourself on my stupid brother?!”

* * *

Makoto’s hand grasps and pulls the door handle. Sunlight seeps through the crack of the open door. He turns back to face Mukuro. “I’m meeting an old friend later this evening. I’ll be back late, so don’t wait up for me.”

“If you’re still hungry when you get back, should I make you something?” She replies.

Makoto pauses to think. “How about fudge cakes?”

 “I think you're better at that than I am.” Mukuro protests.

Makoto waves his hands, flippantly. “Yours were to die for. Yup, I’d be a happy man if I found a slice in the fridge.”

“I-I’ll do my best.”

“Thanks.” He closes the door behind him.

Left to her own devices, Mukuro thinks of what to do. “I’ll need to buy ingredients later.”

It’d be an eventful day for them both.

* * *

Makoto steps through the front door of a club. He looks around to find the establishment all too typical. Similarly expected, is the lack of customers during the day.

He makes his way to the reception desk.

“What would you like, sir?” The female clerk addresses him with the appropriate professionalism.

“To wish upon a star.”

She casts him a long look. As if trying to memorize every inch of his face to long-term memory. “Right this way.” She guides him behind the counter. Makoto moves behind the clerk in silence, taking the opportunity to shuffle a few playing cards.

The clerk stops at an old door.

Atypical.

“Is she down there?” He places the cards in his sleeves.

“You are the first to arrive, sir.”  

He nods and opens it. All he sees is a dreary staircase that leads to the basement.

The door closes behind him, leaving darkness as his only consort.

* * *

“I didn’t forget the cocoa powder, did I?” Mukuro rummages through one of the grocery bags, thankful when her sought item was there. She’d found herself enjoying her formal relationship with Makoto. She’d even acquired many skills, courtesy of his teachings. That includes how to cook more than the most basic meals.

Mukuro carried on with her real career, but having a place to call home and someone who would welcome her with a smile was…heartwarming. Something she had never experienced before now. She was grateful to Makoto.

Kind, sweet Makoto.

…

Her lips formed a thin line, her eyes narrowed to slits. If Mukuro kept walking in a straight line, she’d reach the condo in about 11 minutes.

She turned left.

* * *

Makoto takes slow, careful steps on the way down. The combination of still air and the creaking steps unnerves him. He counts 10, 20, 30 steps and halts. He kicks the tip of his shoes on the ground and take cautious steps forward.

The room is pitch-black; his eyes hadn’t adjusted yet. He draws closer to a dim, golden glow a little way off.

His lower half bumps into something on the way. Judging from the height, the feel – it was a table. He rests his hand on the smooth surface for confirmation. His eyes move upwards to the glow. It must have been placed there to direct him to the light switch.

_‘As if.’_

The once still air shifts behind him. Makoto twists his body to the sound of the rushing footsteps. He dodges to the right in a nick of time. The sound of chopped wood succeeded his evasion.

A pair of green orbs shine in the dark, staring right at him.

* * *

Mukuro ended up in an alleyway, of her own choosing. She faced off against a group of thuggish-looking men. “What do you want?”

“You knew we were following you?” A bespectacled blonde with a thick, French accent said.

 _“What do you want?”_ Mukuro repeats.

“Please come with us and your boyfriend won’t get hurt.”

Mukuro loses whatever semblance of expression may have appeared on her face. “…All right.” Whoever they were, they'd been watching her movements for some time.

“Smart girl.”

“I can bring these with me, right?” She holds up the groceries.

The man inches his head over, wordlessly directing his subordinate to search the bags. “Baking a cake?”

“Yes. There was a sale.”

It was a sight to see dead men smirk to each other and laugh. “Sure, why not. You’ll get to make all the cakes you’d like once we’re finished.”

Mukuro allows them to escort her back to a black car, where she was boxed in and taken hostage.

Neither she nor her own captors realized they were being followed by another party.

* * *

Makoto surmised there was only one enemy. They used a close-ranged weapon, likely a knife given the short distance between himself and one of the only two things he could see. Namely their night-vision goggles.

He couldn’t take his eyes off them lest he take a knife to the back. Makoto had no choice but to back pedal his way to the other visible object in the room. It was long and dense enough to use as a weapon. The dull sounds of the knife cutting air filled him with apprehension. There’d been a few too many close calls already.

The spy’s back hits the wall. He latches onto the glowing object. It was heavy enough to be used as a weapon, light enough that he could wield it. At this distance he could see clearly that it was a cosmetic sword.

As his attacker draws close, Makoto swings in an arc.

*Clang*

The knife falls out of their hands and hit the floor.

* * *

A blindfold blocks Mukuro’s vision, forcing her to rely on her other senses. She feels when the car stops. She suppresses the urge to retaliate when shoved. The squawks of seagulls and the ocean waves reach her ears.

 _‘Were they by the docks?’_ – Mukuro thinks as she’s walked along. Her arms are tied by rope. Not nearly thick enough to hold her, but if she wanted to escape, she’d have done so a long time ago. First, she needs to find out what these men wanted and where they were hiding. It was better to wipe them out in one fell swoop than taking on a few stragglers in the alley.

 “Sit.” They push her onto a chair.

Mukuro furrows her eyebrows. She was the target, but something she’d heard prior, disturbed her. “What do you want with Makoto?”

Someone snickers and responds. “Is that 11037's name? Either way, We’re going to kill him, of course.”

Mukuro’s eyes glazes over, hardly registering the numerals. She could zone in on the man’s position from his voice. He would die first. Before Mukuro could make her move, gunfire interrupts, followed by howling pain.

Clocks of guns, rifles and alike spring forth in droves.

“Name yourselves!”

“That’s my line. Who do you think you are trying to muscle in on our mark? Give us Ikusaba Mukuro and nobody’ll get hurt.” There’s an audible chuckle that follows. “ _Nobody else._ ”

Mukuro’s forehead creases. She might not be able to see but whoever just spoke was clearly Russian.

“Are you spies too? Come to rescue your comrade, eh? No such luck. We spent a fortune on the information broker, tracing you lot to this backwater country.”

“Comrade?! I’m here to kill that woman for what she did to my boss. And what fool would ever risk their neck for a hired gun?”

“Hired…gun? This woman is a mercenary?”

“Idiot. Do you even know who it is you caught?”

Ordinarily, Mukuro would have taken the opportunity to flee during the confusion…but they were a threat to Makoto. She’d get rid of them here.

She snaps the ropes.

* * *

“This is a bit much for a greeting, don’t you think?” Makoto’s unimpressed, standing by as she walks past him. A second later, the lights switch on. It reveals an old-fashioned bar, with only two people in the room. Himself and “…!” Makoto nearly chokes when he sees a cleaver’s edge poised to his heart. The wielder’s smug pronounced her victory.

“You shouldn’t be quick to assume I only had one.”

Makoto frowns at the deception. “I wonder what people would say if they could see their favorite idol attacking an innocent man with a knife.”

Maizono Sayaka quickly hides the weapon behind her back. “Sorry, I wanted to play a little prank.” She was anything but cute. One hand pulled away from the light switch on the wall. The other – holding Makoto at knifepoint – dropped. Night goggles lifted upwards to reveal deep blue eyes gleaming with mischief. “I’ll just send them a cute wink, a perfect smile and all would be forgiven.”

“Is that how you bribed the clerk?”

“Maaaybe. Now then, shall we catch up?” The minx points to a table with a set of cards and red chips.

“We could just talk, like normal people.” Makoto said.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

* * *

Mukuro crushes the windpipe of the man closest to her and drags his body behind a nearby pillar.

“She got free!” She glanced the scar-faced man before the bullets fired. His injury left enough of an image during one of her previous jobs.

 _‘So, this was revenge?’_ Mukuro didn’t understand the desire, and personally, it sounds like a dumb thing to throw your life away for.

Return fire had come much too slow. Bullets pelted and ricocheted off the stone pillar. “It should hold for a while.”

She needs to work her way up a kill count, and weapons are necessary for that. Mukuro looked down at the wheezing man. He had a gun, and a body to use as a shield.

She took the pistol from his hands and held his body up behind her.

The mercenary took deep breaths. “Here we go.”

 She ran forward.

* * *

Makoto shuffles the deck, his gaze flitters in every direction.

Sayaka sits down, bringing with her bottles of vodka.

“Is that safe?” He asks.

“Obviously! The rustic outlook is just for show. They obviously take care of the place. I asked for a taste test beforehand, if it’ll make you feel better.” This ‘place’ was an old mafia hideout, dating back as far as the prohibition era. Men used to smuggle alcohol in here to avoid the police.

“I also checked for wires. None here.” She continued, taking a passive-aggressive stab at him.

“You didn’t have to go out of your way.” Makoto doesn’t bite.

“Yeah, but I know how _paranoid_ you are.” She teases.

Makoto throws out 10 cards, face down. 5 for each for them. He then places the deck in the middle of the table. “How should we start? Bet high or low?”

Sayaka brings a finger to her lips. “Hmm, that all depends on this juicy news about you and a new girl~”

“Low then.” He put 5 chips forward.

The bluenette looked askance at his callousness.

“It’s not what you think.”

“ _Then what is it_?”

“That’ll be for you to know _if_ you win a hand.”

* * *

Bullets fill what Mukuro now recognized as a warehouse. Fortunately, not an empty one. There were entire aisles filled with boxes, meaning plenty of room for cover.

She had one more advantage in this fight.

The hitman dashes as gunfire rings out, not directed at her, but at others. It turns out not all these men were a team. It turns out the enemy of my enemy isn’t a friend.

Mukuro took aim at a shoot out involving 5 gangsters. 3 against 2. Mukuro thins the ranks by aiming for heir heads. A bullet soars through the air and their numbers fall one by one.

* * *

“Ah so it’s all about work. Typical.” The idol sounds disappointed.

“I sense an insult in that.” Makoto’s eyes are glued to the back of Sayaka’s cards and the motions of her fingers.

The bluenette hums a tune. Probably one of her many hits. “You’ve lived together for 6 months. Don’t you feel _some_ form of attraction for each other?”

“That’s another question. You’ll need another win.” He said.

* * *

“Tch.” Mukuro clicks her tongue, avoiding a narrow scrape.

“How is she dodging?” Pierre roars.

“Keep firing! She’ll get tired eventually. If she gets in close, it’s over.” Gustav deduced accurately. The two groups had finally decided to work together after how easily their men were decimated. All without landing a hit on Mukuro.

If she managed eye contact with the flash from a gun’s barrel, that’d be the end for her. Thankfully, she didn’t have to outrun bullets. She only needed to outrun people. With snake-like fluidity, and the agility of a cheetah, she escapes the enemy’s vision before they line up a shot.

*clicks*. One firearm went silent after the other.

“They finally ran out.” Mukuro leaps out of the cover and poises her gun at the scrambling, and virtually unarmed men.

*Bang*

* * *

Makoto taps his fingers on the table, glowering at Sayaka. The chips on her end growing ever larger. “There’s a gap in her actions and personality. I think it’s alluring.”

Like moth to flame, she inquires. “How so?”

“She too cute, gets nervous if I tease her (and if she notices) …but you wouldn’t believe how many things I’ve seen her break.”

* * *

There were less than 10 assailants left. No more guns. Mukuro rushes the one in front, his build roughly twice her size. He also had a handsome face. Past-tense. The knuckle she plants in it makes sure of that.

* * *

“Klutzy?” Sayaka's head tilts.

“More like too strong for her own good. Mukuro says she practiced martial arts and self-defence. I believe it, but I don’t know. There’s got to be some super genetics in there.”

His friend makes a bunch of “hms” and “ahs”. Whatever’s going on in her head, it’s probably bad for him.

“What’s her most attractive feature?”

That didn’t need much thought. He scratches his cheeks.

“Definitely her legs.”

* * *

Mukuro whips kicks Pierre, twisting his head in a sickening position.

* * *

“Pervert.” Sayaka sticks her tongue out. “So, you _do_ think she’s attractive…but nothing’s happened between you two?”

“Like I said, she’s a bit shy and on edge. I don’t want to force anything on her. I doubt she’s attracted to me that way either.”

“Hmm. Interesting.” There it is again...

“What is?”

“Not telling. Play if you want to find out.”

Makoto grunts and folds his arms. “About that. I’m done. You’re cheating. _How are you cheating?_ ”

Sayaka covers her mouth, feigning ignorance in an obnoxiously scandalized voice. “Well I nevah!”

“3 good hands. In a row. Against me.” He jerks his finger – the one not holding the cards – at her. “You’re cheating. You know that I know you’re cheating. That’s exactly what you want and you’re loving it.”

“P-A-R-A-N-O-I-D” She smiles sweetly.

Makoto frowns. “You sure have gotten the hang of lying.”

Sayaka’s masks breaks for a moment. She averts her eyes and looks down at her cards. “Still holding that against me. It was for my job, Makoto.” Fair enough. Besides, he’d done much worse things.

 Still, she was partly the reason he stopped getting emotionally attached. Never mix business with pleasure.

“Raise. All in.” He puts forth the remainder of his chips.

“Gutsy. If I win, you know I’ll fish for something big.” She does the same.

“Call or fold?” He says.

“Call.”

* * *

“D-Damn you.” Gustav coughs blood. Mukuro’s boots fixed firmly on his chest.

The soldier looks down on him expressionlessly. “You should have minded your own business. It’s not like I would have come after you.”

“You kill my family, my friends. You think anyone would let you walk away? Just like that?”

Mukuro shrugs. “Not my problem.”

“He…heh. You’ll get what’s coming to you one day. Everyone does.”

“Maybe, but not today.” says the grim reaper.

* * *

‘Finally.’ Makoto suppresses a sigh of relief at getting a winning hand. He can’t look desperate, now can he.

Sayaka pouts “What do you want?”

“I’ve always wanted to know. Why keep up the idol gig?”

She blinks. “Most people would find being an idol a more endearing profession than being a spy…”

“It’s also a less reliable one. That you’ve gone this long is impressive. But stupid. Spies aren’t supposed to stand out. That’s rule number one.”

“Isn’t that just the perfect cover though? Nobody would believe a national idol to be an agent.” She says with a pointed finger. This wasn’t a game. But you wouldn’t know it from how peppy Sayaka was acting.

“Standing in the limelight and the shadows, is the point. Juggling both is exciting and I might get bored without either. I thought you’d understand.”

Or maybe that’s all it was; An act.

“What are you implying?” He raises an eyebrow.

Her eyes roll. “There’s a whole lot more you could be doing with your talents, Makoto. But you _can’t get enough_ of the thrill. You should’ve seen your smile in the middle of my prank.”

“I do a service. That’s all.”

“You still do the dumb rose thing?”

“No comment.”

“The prosecution rests,” Sayaka stares at him, wearily. “You’re a real piece of work for trying to guilt trip me when you had an ace _up your sleeve.”_ She means that in the most literal sense. Here he thought he’d fooled her. “That’s a bit much, just to win a game, don’t you think?”

“Wasn’t it you who taught me how to use emotions to my advantage?” Makoto shuffles the deck, not making eye-contact.

“And so, the student surpassed the master.” Sayaka jokes. “Okay, then for the next round, I’ll raise you your next _service_.” She slides an envelope over to him. “Everything you need to know is in there.” In other words, they weren’t to discuss the contents aloud.

“From Byakuya?” Makoto asks, checking the seal to make sure it was unopened.

“Kyoko. It’s about youknowwho, I assume.”

Enoshima Junko.

Makoto presses a finger to his chin. “Why is this person such a big deal?”

“I know a bit, from my actual job. Stuff like murders, kidnappings, extortion. All sorts of bad rumors circulate around that person. I’d never want to get involved with them.”

“Sounds like bad news.”

“It shows how much Kyoko and Byakuya trust you to deal with her.”

“You think?” He hopes.

“Not really. No.”

“I figured.” He deflates.

Silence befell them.

“Speaking about our dear friends…do you,” Makoto trails off

“'Have any idea how those two hooked up?’ Nope.” Sayaka shakes her head. “I don’t even have a clue how they can stand to be alone with each other for 5 minutes.”

“That’s not a very nice thing to say…but yeah, I see your point. They’re so…frigid.”

“Understatement of the century. They were competing with each other all the way back since high school. Did they get over themselves at some point?”

Makoto gulps. This was a good a time as any to address the mammoth in the room. “You know…there’s a thought that scares me sometimes. Maybe Byakuya and Kyoko haven’t changed at all and getting married was like…a new competition for them.”

The idol shivers. “You…too, huh?”

“You think the same way?”

Sayaka nods, dread palpable on her face. “I don’t have time to go by the office much, but I do see them occasionally. It’s been 2 years since the wedding, but they still act the same. They barely even glance at each other. They banter a little, but nothing affectionate.”

“I-I’m not sure they even had a honeymoon.”

A collective shudder.

_‘They were going to be okay, right?’_

“The worst part is…what if they break up?” Sayaka posits.

“What would happen?”

“That’s just it. You expect something’ll change but I’m worried those two will just split off and keep seeing each other every day like _nothing happened_.”

“And when we ask,” Makoto smirked dryly.

Sayaka's confusion quickly clarifies when she sees him assume a familiar posture:[ Makoto folds his arms, sticks his chin up. It's a holier-than-thou conceit that she’d only seen one man perfect.](https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/danganronpa/images/f/fd/Byakuya_Togami_Halfbody_Sprite_%287%29.png/revision/latest?cb=20170519222438) The expression is enough to infuriate the common man and think himself lesser.

The bluenette’s lips twitch in amusement, knowing this was a two-player game. [She gently brushes her hair backwards, looking aside with an air of cool indifference and a hint of condescension](https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/danganronpa/images/0/01/Kyouko_Kyoko_Kirigiri_Halfbody_Sprite_%283%29.png/revision/latest?cb=20170519083158). The gesture reminds Makoto of a woman who thinks she knows everything. Yet also loves to see everyone else rattle their puny brain cells to dare reach her level.

With rivaling degrees of arrogance in their voice, they speak. **““We split up years ago. You’re telling us you _just_ noticed?””**

The sound of the other’s act causes both spies to roar with laughter. Anyone who was told the two had been wrapped up in a fight just hours before would look upon them with disbelief.

Suddenly they stop, realizing their joke…wasn’t much of one and could well happen. Makoto and Sayaka look at their drinking glasses and chug down the vodka.

The harassment and irrationality Byakuya and Kyoko had put them through…it was a miracle neither suffered massive inferiority complexes.

“On second thought…” Sayaka started.

With similar bitterment, Makoto reached the same conclusion.

“They deserve each other.”

* * *

“Done at last.” Mukuro exhaled deeply but hadn’t broken a sweat. The warehouse is filled with blood and broken men.  Yet the only thing on Mukuro’s mind was hoping she could make dinner on time, before Makoto got home.

“Now where did they put the groceries?”

* * *

 Later that night. “This is great.” Makoto mewled, his cheeks bloating with the flavor of delicious chocolate cake.

 Mukuro giggles at his chipmunk-like face. “How was your friend?”

“We played a few games, cards…then drank a lot.” He explains, then falls into silence.  “It’s my day off tomorrow. Let’s go out, wherever you want.”

“What’s the occasion?” Mukuro asked, expressionlessly.

Makoto sweat-drops at the icy reception. “Wouldn't you like a change of pace from being cooped up in here?"

“I went out for some exercise today.” For all the trouble it was, the soldier was proud to see she was still in top form.”

“I was _thinking_ we could get more outdoor practice as a couple. Maybe we can even go on a trip.”

Mukuro’s face brightens up. “I understand. I’ll stay up and research good locations.”

“I’ll look with you.”

“Why?” Mukuro cocks her head. There isn't a need for two people.

He doesn’t take offense. He knows how she is.

“I’m scared of waking up to a hangover in the morning.”

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This AU was me testing the waters a bit. I might continue at a later date depending on the reception/if I feel up to it.


End file.
